


Hell is Empty

by fantom_ftnoise



Series: Hell is Empty [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, POV Blaise Zabini, Pining Draco Malfoy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre Drarry - Freeform, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Smut, Unspeakable Blaise Zabini, background Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantom_ftnoise/pseuds/fantom_ftnoise
Summary: As sinful as Harry’s mouth was, Blaise could defrock the devil with his tongue.Draco needs Blaise to get close to Harry to see if his feelings might be reciprocated. But Blaise gets too close and things get complicated.





	Hell is Empty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsundanire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundanire/gifts).



> Happy birthday, [tsundanire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundanire/pseuds/tsundanire)!

It started as some good old fashioned espionage. A touch of flair and elegance, of course, as Blaise was never one to half-arse anything, even a tryst. He had to know what all the hype was about. Between the rumors in the papers and the whisper-shrieked conversation he'd overheard in an abandoned Ministry corridor, Blaise had formed quite the impression of the precious savior that had Draco wrapped around his golden finger. All he intended to do was get to know the bloke, to find what made him tick. To see what Draco saw in him. To snuff out the truth of his bedroom shenanigans.

 

_ "He could take the whole Wizengamot to bed for all I care," Draco announced in that stubbornly light-hearted way that told Blaise he was in real pain. "So long as he gives me a chance." _

 

_ "To fuck?" he pressed. _

 

_ Draco looked away. Ugh, it was pitiful. _

 

They were all on friendly enough terms these days, nine years after the war. Star Auror Potter had quit the Ministry three years ago to fly for Puddlemere United, and he'd just won his first World Cup this summer. Blaise saw an opportunity to invite him over for a modest celebration, saw an opportunity to forget to invite anyone else, saw an opportunity to serve him a single glass of his very finest whisky and pick his brain. That conversation outlasted the fire, outlasted the night and Blaise's morning shift at the Department of Mysteries. But this was a mystery worth his attention.

 

As a teenager and, later, an Auror, Harry Potter was an arsehole. Short-tempered, perpetually stressed, only able to see in black-and-white terms. He followed his gut, which was twisted and starved by trauma and high stakes. Blaise couldn't be bothered with all that rot. It wasn't his style. But  _ this _ Harry - the Quidditch star, the young man whose chief complaints were early practices and a strict diet that only allowed one glass of whisky - was a delight. Soft at times, then wickedly sharp at the drop of a hat. Openly enthused or utterly lost in his daydreams...Blaise delighted in learning to read his expressions.

 

_ "He gets this look on his face when he's peeved," Draco recalled fondly, the stupid cupid-struck git. "I've never seen anyone else who could turn their brows that sharply!" _

 

_ Blaise laughed along, knowing he himself could calculate the exact angle of Harry's downturned brows. _

 

A few weeks passed. They went for coffee in Italy (Harry drank water, the cad), shopping in Paris (he was a fashion disaster and Blaise was his only hope), flying with wild phoenixes in Japan (not a word was spoken that day and yet Blaise learned more than ever about his target). It was all going according to plan.

 

What was not in the plan was this...this  _ reciprocation _ of interest. Blaise didn't quite know how to play it off when he arrived to work last Tuesday to find his favorite Italian espresso order waiting on his desk, charmed to keep hot. 

 

_ Lost the match but still worth the trip, -H _ read the note. 

 

Blaise was stunned when Harry recommended an obscure seminar in Hungary on Ancient Aramaic rituals - when exactly had he let slip that he knew Hungarian? The seminar was incredibly enlightening and Blaise locked himself away at his mother's estate for four days straight to research further. When he finally returned to his circle of friends, he tried to play off Harry's smug smirk with a quip about his hair. Because despite his charming sincerity and devotion to his friends, Harry Potter was still a fashion disaster and Blaise would cling to that desperately.

 

He would not fall for Harry Potter...except, perhaps, into bed.

 

They hadn't talked about it properly, but then he hadn't expected to. Gryffindors were brash like that sometimes - they either laid it all out on the table for frank discussion or they just laid themselves out on the table to take it up the arse, no qualms about it. When Harry invited him to Grimmauld Place, he conveniently forgot to invite anyone else. He poured Blaise a glass of his favorite whisky and they kissed chastely over the bar cart.

 

That didn't last long - their chastity, that is.

 

Harry didn't just kiss with his mouth, he kissed with his whole being. His body writhed in Blaise's grip, his soul moaned out of his stubbled throat, his fingers sparked with random flares of magic as he tore off their clothes. Blaise would mourn his bespoke robe later, when he didn't have an armful of savior to wield for his pleasure.

 

With unblinking eye contact, Harry dropped to his knees and didn't so much as glance down until Blaise nodded. Harry flicked his gaze to Blaise's rapidly hardening cock like it was the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen, because of course, it was. Harry pressed a soft kiss to the head, then another just below, and another on the shaft, then another and another and another. Random and without sense, just fond, teasing little kisses, until he pushed his lips against the end of his cock and let the head slip through into a gorgeously warm place of sin.

 

Blaise heaved a great sigh he didn't even know he had in him while Harry drooled over him happily, as if he'd been born to suck this cock. Slurping obscenely, Harry finally deemed him slick enough and fell into a rhythm. Blaise leaned back against the wall and lifted his own arms, crooking them at the elbow and draping them over his head. He closed his eyes, pushing away the image of that bobbing head of black hair, and allowed himself to simply  _ feel _ . Harry's hands dug into his bare thighs, moving slightly with his motions, his nails catching and pulling on the hairs there to add just that bit of pain that Blaise needed to heighten the pleasure. And  _ oh _ , that throat - Harry charged forward, taking him in to the hilt, again and again and - 

 

"We can do better than a blowjob," he gasped, dropping an arm to tilt Harry's chin away from his dripping cock. A line of saliva connected them still, even more spittle dripping onto the floor, and Blaise nearly came at the sight. Harry looked quite pleased with himself, the sloppy fiend. "Got a bed to rest that mouth?"

 

The loud witch at the Ministry had gone on and on about her time in Harry Potter's bed, and perhaps it had really just been about the bed itself. It was well made, for certain. The heavy oak frame didn't even flinch when he threw Harry on it. Harry grinned up at him with such savagery, it pulled a growl from Blaise. Like a panther, snarling and naked, he pounced.

 

Blaise knew he was in trouble when Harry bound himself to the headboard with a practiced flick of his wrists. Silk rope held him firmly in place, leaving him open to Blaise's heated gaze...open and eager. No fear in his eyes, no timidity, no bashfulness. Harry glared at him in challenge and Blaise was never one to back down from a challenge.

 

_ "I reckon he'd like being tied up," Draco was babbling now and turning pinker with every word. "Aurors are kinky like that. Quidditch players, too, they like the adrenaline." _

 

_ "Shagged a lot of Aurors and Quidditch players, have you?" _

 

_ "No," Draco grumbled. "But  _ you _ have..." His eyes lit up with one of his plans and Blaise's fate was sealed. _

 

Harry's skin was soft in some places, scarred and calloused in others. Blaise ran his hands down either flank, basking in how vulnerable the ribs under his palms were. Harry rolled his hips up, his cock half-hard, and Blaise pressed him back down. He smirked.

 

"I'm going to wreck you, Potter," he promised.

 

True to his damned reputation, Harry gave as good as he got, and it was all the more impressive and infuriating when he was tied up. When Blaise yanked him down, Harry wrapped his legs around him. When he ravished a nipple, Harry arched into it and used his bastard elbows to hold Blaise against him. Every push was met with a pull and every pull was answered by a smart lip. This was absurd. Blaise gripped his hips and lifted him up into an inverted, vertical trap. That filthy mouth was pressed shut against his chest, his shoulders took his weight on the mattress, and his arse faced the heavens from which it came. 

 

Blaise ghosted a breath across his exposed arsehole and thought he heard a tinge of unease in Harry's surprised squawk. Blaise froze.

 

"Alright down there?" he asked.

 

"Kiss my arse," Harry laughed, awkward and strained with his chin on his chest.

 

He did. As sinful as Harry's mouth was, Blaise could defrock the devil with his tongue. (And in fact, he was working on just that - his latest research project would summon an ancient sex demon if all went to plan.) There was no easing into it; he set his standards high and kept them there. His tongue plunged into Harry's arse without mercy, soon joined by a lubed finger, and then another. He reached around and under Harry's free-hanging legs to stroke him erratically, adding to the torture. Every lick, every stroke, every prod was without rhythm, leaving Harry squirming and unable to build towards an orgasm until he was a twitching, quivering mess of a man.

 

"Fuck - fuck me!" Harry cried.

 

Blaise obliged. He dropped Harry from his inverted position and he finally lay flat on his back, legs splayed open without an ounce of fight left. Just pure, carnal desperation for Blaise's cock between them. Slathering on some lube, he lined up and pushed in, and watched Harry's brows reach new heights with every inch.

 

"Gyah…!" Harry gasped nonsensically as Blaise buried himself completely. He pulled out to slick more lube over his cock and it was just enough time for Harry to regain some of his fire. Blaise snorted inelegantly as Harry coyly hooked a leg around him, pulling him back in.

 

"Devil," he accused with a hard little thrust. Harry grunted blissfully, closing his eyes and losing himself as Blaise set a punishing pace.

 

_ "I wonder what his face looks like when he comes," Draco mused. Blaise thought it would look like the face he'd made when his diet allowed a rare slice of treacle tart. _

 

_ He mimicked it for Draco, pulling gales of laughter from his long-time friend. Even in childhood, Draco had always been one to laugh with him, not at him. _

 

Harry tensed tellingly and Blaise closed his eyes. Harry came and Blaise missed the expression on his face, choosing to focus instead on chasing his own orgasm. He sped up, throwing himself to the sensations, and then felt his climax tumble out of him in hot, pulsing bursts. 

 

He pulled out and collapsed beside Harry. Reaching blindly overhead, he undid the restraints, though he was certain Harry could undo them himself. Harry draped a hand over his back, cradling him against his side.

 

_ "Are you..." Draco broke off, looking slightly ill. _

 

_ "We're friends, Draco," he assured him. _

 

Blaise hated himself for what he had to do, but he'd hate himself more if he didn't do it.

 

"Not my style, Harry," he sighed dramatically, trying in vain to mask how out of breath he was. 

 

Harry jerked, tilting his chin down to look at him with a bewildered smile. "What?"

 

"Bit earnest for my tastes," he went on. He focused on meticulously cleaning his come-covered hand on the bedsheet. "Far too much eye contact."

 

Harry huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes, and Blaise went in for the kill. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He'd have to traipse down to the ground level in the buff - their clothes were still in the parlor - but first:

 

"You're too earnest," he said again, turning to face Harry again. He sat up on the bed, staring at him with uncertainty and even a bit of fear - at least more fear than he'd shown when he was tied up. "Nothing wrong with it, per se, but it's not my style. All that moaning and gasping, I can't stomach it."

 

"But that's...that's sex." Harry's brows turned at the slight angle that meant he was confused, not angry. Blaise hoped he wouldn't hate him after this, but he was on a mission.

 

"I should've kept you on the blowjob," he said. Harry's face fell into an all new expression, one he hadn't seen before, and Blaise felt his heart sink. He was the lowest of the low here, but it was all for a greater cause. Harry blathered on about Draco just as much as Draco pined for him, and Blaise didn't share...not with Draco, anyway.

 

"Why didn't you." It wasn't a question, the way he said it. More of a recrimination.

 

"Too much mess," he answered simply. Harry frowned - a small, analytical frown that he thought Harry may have picked up from him - and wiped his chin self-consciously. " _ You _ may not have a gag reflex, but I do." He pulled a face and Harry glared at him, brows turning down at that dreaded angle.

 

"You could've said something!" he shot back. "I'm not a mind-reader, I don't - "

 

"I wouldn't have you change who you are just to shag me," Blaise said. "It's just a shag, Harry." He kept his voice gentle, praying that's all this was. For both of them.

 

Harry looked unconvinced, but more confused than peeved. "The last two months, then, that's all just been for a shag?"

 

"Six weeks."

 

"What?"

 

Blaise sighed, furious with himself. Of course he'd kept careful track of time for this of all things, when he couldn't even keep track of how long he'd hidden away in his mother's estate researching demon sex rituals.

 

"We've been...crossing paths, as it were, for six weeks now. Not two months."

 

"Crossing paths."

 

"Yes."

 

"Not dating."

 

_ “Don't shag him,” Draco told him firmly after laying out the plan. “Don't - don't muck about with his mind or anything.” _

 

_ “Not sure he could afford it,” Blaise agreed. This was Potter they were talking about. What was Draco worried about? _

 

_ “Just get to know him,” were his orders. “See if you can't get him to give me a chance. But don't - ” _

 

_ “Circe’s tits, Draco, I've got it! Your precious savior's safe with me, don't worry.” _

 

Blaise blinked politely. "Did I give you any indication we were dating, Harry?"

 

Harry flushed bright red, snatching the small pot of lube Blaise had left on the mattress and aiming for his head. Blaise ducked just in time, raising his arms to protect his beautiful face.

 

"I'm sorry!" he offered before Harry could find his wand and do some real damage. "That was shit of me, I'm sorry, I - yes, I led you on!" He lowered his arms cautiously. Harry was standing now, clutching a pillow like a weapon.

 

"I thought we were..." Harry trailed off, seeming unsure what to say. "I mean, I know we never discussed it and we weren't exclusive or anything, but I thought we were  _ something _ ." He stared hard at Blaise. "More than just a bad shag."

 

Blaise straightened up, feeling ridiculous as he stood there in the nude, discussing their feelings and pretending he wasn't lying.

 

"So we have no sexual chemistry," he said with a shrug. "It's hardly the tragedy of the century, you know." Harry laughed without humor in that dark way he had sometimes that piqued Blaise's interest. "I still like Italian coffee. And I  _ suppose _ I could still like you in an Italian coffee house," he sighed, sounding highly put-upon. "Given enough time to recover from this experience, of course." 

 

"Get the fuck out of my house, Zabini," Harry snorted, tossing the pillow half-heartedly at him. He caught it and offered a small smile back.

 

"You know who likes loud, messy, earnest sex?" He only just managed to keep  _ mind-blowing _ off the list.

 

Harry raised his brows indifferently.

 

"Draco." Blaise grinned like a cheshire cat while his heart screamed at him to take everything back and keep Harry for himself. 

 

Harry tilted his head and squinted, considering… Blaise held his breath.

 

"Right then - I've got a mission for you, Blaise," he said, his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Some good old fashioned espionage."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is entirely based on a conversation I had with tsundanire, featuring plenty of Blaise-worship and her brilliant ideas for a Harry/Blaise scene leading to future Drarry.


End file.
